The Angels of Catastrophe by Peter Plate Read Free Book Online Page B

talents Durrutti knew he didn’t have at his disposal. Like most things, he had to wing it. He leaned against a parking meter and nodded his chin sympathetically, trying to get in sync with Fleeta’s head space as the stressed-out black man related his latest string of adventures to him.
    â€œI had me a job doing the fish at the Foreign Cinema. You know that place? I got fired because they thought I was stealing shit. You know that ain’t my style. I ain’t crass. If I’m going to rip somebody off, I do it with class. I’m gonna have somebody else do the stealing for me. I will employ that person and pay him good money, just like they do it in the service sector. You hire specialists to do the deed. So that’s what I did. I hired this punk and it backfired. The turkey got caught with a hundred pounds of salmon and he folded on me. He ratted on my butt. I had me a good lawyer and I’m lucky I didn’t go to jail. Say, you got any weed?”
    Durrutti replied, hoping to get a word in, “No, I don’t. Hey ... you ain’t seen Jimmy around, have you?”

    Fleeta compressed his slinky face into a scowl. “Who?”
    â€œJimmy. Jimmy Ramirez.”
    â€œOh, you mean Mexican Jimmy.” Fleeta’s leonine visage was haughty; his Afro tufted in the breeze. The sun glanced off his smooth face, making the down on his cheeks shimmer. His eyes went reptilian at the mention of Jimmy’s name. He flexed his mouth in a tart grin. “That dork? He’s been giving me grief lately. I’m reevaluating our, you know, that friend thing. The platonic shit. The fact is, Jimmy is a thief. You either live with that or it pulls you down. I can’t decide where I’m at with it. What do you want him for?”
    Durrutti was careful, as if he were walking through a minefield. His paranoia was no match for Fleeta, who was more tweaked-out than anyone he knew. “I just want to talk to him, that’s all. You know where he is?”
    â€œYou want to know where he’s staying?”
    â€œYeah. You got a number for him? Some way I can reach him?”
    â€œIf I did, you would be second in line after me. That’s the problem. The dude ain’t around. He was staying with his sister over on Shotwell. She had an apartment. But she got evicted. Then Jimmy went to a friend’s place on Bryant Street. I heard they had a fight and Jimmy got kicked out. Last I knew, he was crashing on Natoma Street.”
    â€œIs he still there?”
    Fleeta said, “Shut up and listen to me, will you? I’m trying to tell you something pertinent. On Natoma Street, all he ever did was work on his car. He was preoccupied,
said he was depressed. Had his head under the hood all the time. Then one day he was gone.”
    This perplexed Durrutti. The street was too noisy, what with the papaya vendors, the hookers and the cars honking their horns. He had trouble hearing what Fleeta was saying. “What do you mean?”
    â€œThe last time I seen him, Jimmy tells me he’s going to the Mustang Brothers to get parts for his Chevy. He says, wait here for me and when I get back, we’ll talk about the money I owe you and how I’m gonna pay it back. And so I waited. I waited that morning and that afternoon. I smoked a bunch of joints. Watched some videos. But he didn’t come back.
    â€œThen I hear Jimmy owes money to lots of people. And he’s been getting into shit with some dudes for stealing their tools. Some cholos I would never mess with.” Fleeta squared his shoulders and said, “I should have never trusted that Mexican. Well, hell. Time to move on. You ain’t got no weed, huh? That figures. When are you ever gonna amount to something, Durrutti? I ain’t gonna hold my breath waiting to find out. Fuck it, I’m outta here.”
    The stoplight changed to green and before Durrutti could do anything, Fleeta sashayed across the street.